Honor to the Heroes
by fiesa
Summary: Wedge Antilles doesn't like ceremonies. Neither do Wes Janson, Tycho Chelchu or Luke Skywalker. But heroes have no choice. OneShot.


**Honor to the Heroes**

_Summary: Wedge Antilles doesn't like ceremonies. Neither do Wes Janson, Tycho Chelchu or Luke Skywalker. But heroes have no choice. OneShot._

_Warning: humor. _

_Set: Post-NJO, after "The Unifying Force"_

_Disclaimer: Standards apply. _

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* * *

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Wedge Antilles didn't like ceremonies.

Had never liked them and never would.

He reflected on the thought as he wandered through the space docs of Bilbringi (hadn't he specifically said he never, ever wanted to see this blasted world again?), unconsciously pulling at the tight collar of his gala uniform. He was from Corellia, for the Force's sake, a simple man, son of an owner of a docking/refueling station, and he couldn't identify with the pomp and circumstances that came along with being a General of the Galactic Alliance. He hated receptions. He hated diplomatic dinners. He hated desks and paperwork. In fact, the only thing he didn't strongly dislike about his service to the Alliance was the fact that he still was allowed to hop into his X-wing whenever he wanted. It was the only thing that kept him sane while briefing and debriefing, filing reports and doing desk duty. That – and Iella, of course. Iella and the girls.

Seeing his reflection in a duraplast window, his white, military-cut short hair, his neatly trimmed beard, his white uniform and various insignia, stars and orders on his left shoulder, he pulled a grimace. He felt uncomfortable but at least the gala uniform had been re-designed and he didn't need to worry about his backside when he bent down. That, undoubtedly, was a plus. But even more than the _old_ gala uniform, the _new_ gala uniform of the Galactic Alliance was designed to show splendor and wealth, and it felt stiff and unfamiliar to Wedge. He desperately wished the evening to come to an end.

And it hadn't even started properly.

"Wedge!"

A voice resounded behind him and a durasteel block hit his right shoulder. He staggered two steps forward and whirled around angrily to face his assailant. There stood, grinning from ear to ear, Wes Janson, as handsome and as mischievous-looking as ever.

The gala uniform he wore was the same as Wedge's. With the slight difference that it seemed to_ actually fit him well_.

"Wes!" Wedge exclaimed, forgot his anger and shook hands with his friend and colleague. "It's so good to see you! How are you?"

"Fine, thanks, couldn't be better! The war is over, the children are doing great and my wonderful wife has put off the thought of a divorce…"

"_What?"_

"I blackmailed her, okay, but she knew what she was getting herself into when she married me, and now…"

His forehead creased, Wedge stared at Wes, but the other didn't move a muscle.

"You're joking", he finally concluded and Wes started grinning once more.

"Of course. Tabitha is fine, she sends her love and her apologies but she has to stay home, Millie came down with a fever yesterday and she wanted to stay home with her. Veronica and Markus are somewhere around, probably with Iella and your girls. They'll be inseparable once again. I'll have to use a corusca-gem saw to separate them from one another so you can take your children back home as soon as this horrible show-off is over."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks this whole affair is one great show-off", Wedge grimaced and continued his way down the gallery. Wes fell into step beside him.

"It is. Cal Omas just wants a huge show to strengthen his hold on the title of the President of State – or is it called "Galactic President" nowadays? – for the upcoming election, and – Wait, is that Tycho? Tycho, old guy, what are you doing here?"

Tycho Chelchu, another friend of both Wedge and Wes, had just appeared in the next door on their side, seemingly searching for something or someone. As he saw them, it became clear he had been keeping a look-out for them for his face relaxed and his pace slowed.

"Wedge, Wes! It's good to see you both. Alive, preferably."

"The Empire hasn't been able to get rid of us, Darth Vader had his go and failed, Ysanne Isard wasn't able to kill us and the Vong haven't fared better. We're still alive and kickin'!"

Ignoring Wes, Tycho shook Wedge's hand. His normally serious face was warm and relaxed.

"Tell me, great General, how have you been able to survive Wes's constant blabbering while simultaneously saving the day multiple times?"

"Oh, I recorded him in one of his fits, when he believed he had saved the universe, and sent the recording to the Vong. They preferred to retreat instead of standing the sound of his voice a second longer…"

"Hey!"

Wes blinked at them, mock-hurt.

"You're talking of the man who single-handedly defeated the greatest enemy the Galactic Alliance ever faced!"

"That's who?"

Another voice inquired interestedly. Three faces turned to look at Luke Skywalker.

"Luke!"

Wedge hugged him hard, grinning broadly, the others shook his hand.

"What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

"No, nothing", he answered and grinned at them. "I'm here on behalf of Cal Omas. He invited me to some sort of ceremony… By your looks, you'll be present, too."

His eyes travelled up and down the formal gala uniforms.

"If I become a Jedi, can I come in those clothes, too?" Wes asked. Luke chuckled.

"Probably. Though I doubt you'd even pass the entrance exam. Is that the new gala uniform? I must say, it looks better than the old ones we used when we still were the Rebel Alliance…"

"Tell me", Wedge growled. "I still hate it."

The Jedi Master nodded wisely.

Wes grinned.

"Aw, come on, Wedge, you look like twenty again in those clothes."

Horrified, the General turned to Tycho.

"Please tell me he is lying."

"What about we go and have a drink?" Tycho suggested. Then his gaze travelled to Luke.

"Except if you don't want to."

"I'd like one very much."

Wedge sighed.

"That's the first good idea I heard in days. Wes, lead the way. I'm sure you already know where the bar is."

* * *

"So", Luke asked a few minutes later, when they were comfortably seated around a table in the mess and each of them had a glass of Corellian Brandy in front of them. "I wager you're all here for the great ceremony Cal is planning tonight?"

Wes put down his glass with a loud thud and stared at him wide-eyed.

"How do you know? Did you read my mind, Jedi?"

Tycho nodded.

"Ignore him – of course we are. What about you?"

"He invited me, too, although not as a member of the Jedi. I wonder…"

"Well, I don't", Wedge declared and took a deep sip of his gold-colored drink. "I know what he has in mind. And, let me tell you, it won't be nice."

"Why?" Tycho asked. "I was told there was some sort of ceremony to honor the heroes of the Yuuzhan Vong War and we were invited as the founders of the Rouge Squadron, the Twin Suns and Tanaab Yellow Aces, respectively."

"Well, you are, I'm sure. But I…" He downed his drink.

"I have the _great honor_ to _christen_ a new ship series. One of the new ones, the ones which were developed from the prototype you brought from that living planet, Luke."

Luke creased his forehead.

"You have the honor to _christen a ship series_?"

"Sounds crazy, I know. If it was just me, I'd take it for a test-flight, pulverize a few asteroids, damage the shields once and say it was okay. But no, Omas wants the whole tantrum with champagne, a speech and a name…"

"So what's the new series' name?" Wes inquired. Wedge shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No. It was kept pretty much secret until today. Sounded like Omas was thinking of naming it after one of our great Generals, like Garm Bel Iblis or Airen Cracken. But he changed his mind the last second. He said I'd be told before my speech – or rather, I'd see soon enough."

"Seems like there is nothing much to worry about this days than ship's names and stupid ceremonies", Tycho sighed and took another sip.

"Sadly", Wes agreed.

Four men grinned at each other.

As much as they detested pomp and ceremonies, they knew the fact that people wondered about stuff like that meant the war was over. It had cost far too many lives, far too many friends. Their faces sobered as they remembered their old friends, colleagues, wing mates who had died during the war against the Yuuzhan Vong. Leaning back, Tycho lifted his glass.

"To our fallen friends."

"Hear, hear", the other three mumbled and drank.

* * *

Another two hours later, they were standing on a platform inside a huge ship hangar and were waiting for Cal Omas to finish his speech. Besides them, there were many people they knew: Pash Cracken, Judder Page, Traest Kre'frey, Garm Bel Iblis, Kenth Hamner, Han Solo, Lando Calrissian and many more.

"… We owe them our thanks", he was saying. "All those people who died during the war. Those people who died fighting, who died for what they believed in, all those people who died because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Their death is our obligation, and we honor them."

He lifted his glass.

"Honor to the Heroes", he said.

"Honor to the Heroes", the large crowd repeated.

"But then, there are those people who did everything they could to save others, and fate wants that they still are with us today. We cannot pay back what they have done for us and we'll never be able to thank them enough. Our dept is great and it goes to people like Master Skywalker and his Jedi, who never wavered in their belief to protect us people, even though we ourselves betrayed them. It goes to people like General Solo and General Calrissian, who did whatever had to be done and always were there to help. It goes to General Cracken and General Page, who never gave up and who saved thousands of people. To Admiral Kre'frey and to General Bel Iblis, who have served the Galactic Alliance with everything they had. And, of course, we're indebted to General Antilles, who fought countless battles, saved thousands of Alliance's people from being sacrificed to foreign Gods, the man who held Borleias when all hope was lost, and gave us new hope, who enabled the re-conquest of Fondor and, of all, Coruscant, our home planet."

Wes, Tycho and Luke were all watching Wedge shift uncomfortably in his stance.

"This is why we want to size the first opportunity to express our thanks, our love and admiration for one of the most important figures in this war: General Wedge Antilles!"

As the audience broke into frenzy, Wedge stepped forward and bowed stiffly.

"I hate this", he whispered out of the corner of his mouth and his friends grinned.

It took quite a while until the crowd had calmed enough to let Omas continue.

"General Antilles", he said, "Therefore is to have the honor of christening the first series of new ships we have developed in cooperation with the Empire and the living planet Zonama Sekot. If you would, General?"

He stepped back with an inviting gesture and Wedge stepped to the front of the dais.

"It's a great honor for me", he told the crowd who went wild once again. _Good_, he thought half sarcastically, half amused. He wouldn't need to say too much that way.

"But I'd like to remind us all that without the help of many other people, this final peace would never have been possible. I'm not a hero. The people who work where nobody can see them, the nameless people who die in star fighters and in space docs, the people who don't even know what they have contributed – those people are true heroes. Remember this whenever you see one of those space ships cross the sky."

He paused and looked solemnly across the now absolutely quiet audience.

"That's all I wanted to say", he finished. "I now have the honor of christening the new ship series, the first one developed during these last months of peace. These ships aren't made for fights but for exploring, and the first thing they're going to do is to record the Unknown Regions further. Personally, I believe this to be even more dangerous than to fight a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter."

Some people laughed.

Wedge grinned.

"Although, come to think of it, I still don't know what the new ships are supposed to be named. I guess we'll just let them surprise us and see a bit of their ability right now."

At his wink, the room grew darker and big beams of laser light lighted the darkness in front of the windows. With a soft, almost inaudible roar, a ship shot by.

"They're beautiful", Wedge whispered, transfixed. Wes, Luke and Tycho only nodded. Together, they watched the pilots demonstrate the ability of the new ships. Grey, white and black shone in the laser light. On the hull, the name of the new series was written out in neat letters. Luke saw it first, then Tycho noticed. Then Wes, and he elbowed Wedge into his ribs.

"_Wedge."_

"What?"

"Look at their names."

Wedge Antilles looked.

And groaned.

* * *

Three hours later, he was still groaning.

"No! No!"

His friends were still laughing.

"You really had no idea they would name these ships after you?"

"Of course not! If I had known, I'd have threatened to resign or something!"

"That's a great honor, Wedge! You don't seem to appreciate it."

"Of course not! _Honor to the Heroes, _kiss my ass!"

His face dropped into his hands and his shoulders shook with some mix between laughter and fury.

"Why do you take it that hard, Wedge?" Luke asked compassionately.

Wes had another fit of laugher.

"Don't you see? He feels old. The great hero feels old when he sees his name on a ship's hull."

"Oh, shut up", Wedge growled.


End file.
